The Game
by VYCanis
Summary: The year is 2089. Androids have become a bit of a unique entity in the world, and Bonnie is no exception to this notion. Join the purple rabbit on a journey about self-worth, exploration, friendship, and MUSIC. (Note that this story may have pairings and may also address theories in an unconventional format)(Rated for language and future content)
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Kyttin here. This chapter is more of an experiment to see if I garner any following before moving along with the plot I've been slowly developing over the last several weeks. It is also a method for keeping my motivation to work on my FNAF-themed Hallowe'en project.**_

 _ **If this chapter seems to be a bit lackadasical, I can't say I apologize; it'll be clear enough if you read it as vaguely as I wrote it.**_

* * *

The Game

Chapter 1

Shoes clack down the street. Everyone has somewhere they need to be. Eventually.

Nobody notices the masks. Everyone wears them every day. Most of the time.

Nobody seems to care.

Idle chatter on cell phones. Honking and purring of cars. Raucous confusion.

Smog. Hotdog grease from the cart down the street. Stale piss. Is that beer?

 _I haven't slept for the past week._

Thrumming notes. A vibrating pair of hands.

 _Two hours ain't enough for me._

Suits and skirts wandering past, always busy, always moving.

 _I feel inspired at quarter to three…ey-em._

A handsome devil with sharp sunglasses and a platinum Rolex in a red Corvette.

 _I haven't changed since our last meet._

A beautiful woman in skin-tight leathers astride a powerful sport bike.

 _I'm still getting all my meals for free._

Two kids, hands clasped together, skipping through the crosswalk.

 _I think I'm being shunned by my feet again._

A honking horn. No time to think. No time to feel.

Had he delayed even a breath longer, the children would have met a grisly end in the middle of a crowded street. Instead, the trio stood panting, eyes wide and alight with terror, on the far side of the street.

"You saved us, mister."

The little girl reached up to pat one purple ear with gratitude.

"Kids! Get away from that thing!"

They gave a start and sprinted away toward their calling mother, her hand clasped over a cell phone just like the rest.

"Don't you know to stay away from those androids?" he overheard. His ears drooped.

Adding insult to injury was the sudden realization that his prized guitar was ruined, crushed by the wheels of the hurried truck he'd narrowly avoided moments before. Splintered bits of birch and maple lay littered in the street, six coiled wires akimbo and swaying gently in the breeze. He sighed, regaining his feet, eyes cast down to his patched shoes. The hole in the knee of his jeans had left a brilliant scuff on his furry knee. That would leave a bruise.

He scooped as much of the destroyed instrument into his arms as he could, his body feeling like naught but an empty shell within which he happened to reside. He tossed the detritus into its former case, clattering the meager offerings of the passerby who'd had spare change to donate, sealing the locks and hefting the case and himself away.

"Interesting."

From within the coffee-shop just behind the android's chosen corner for the day emerged three more androids, all garnished to have the appearance of animals. One, clearly the front, sported a top hat, spectacles, and what appeared to be a tuxedo minus the jacket. He had the muzzle and ears of a bear to match his furry brown epidermis, bright blue eyes beset with intrigue at the scene he'd witnessed. To his left stood a girl shorter than he, clad in a black hooded sweatshirt over a hot pink graphic tee-shirt with a bib bearing the colorfully-scribed phrase "Let's Eat!;" a navy blue skirt and fishnet tights finished the outfit into black ankle pump boots, all covering a thick layer of yellow feathers. She rolled her beak around, the remnants of her iced tea sifting from between her inner layer of teeth. To her right stood a tall gent, garnished with a long trenchcoat colored brown and black and inlaid with gold buttons and rubies of the finest cut. A black tee-shirt and ripped linen trousers coupled to thick, heeled boots completed the garb, leaving only the muzzle of a fox beneath the eyepatch of a pirate to fill in the gaps. He wore a tricorn with the letters FFP delicately stitched into the back in bright silver cursive font.

"Ey, what's so interestin' you interrupted our tea break, Fred?"

The bear drew a pocket watch of fourteen-carat gold from within his vest, checking the time with a critical blue eye. He gazed to the purple of the chicken and the green of the fox, a delighted smile quirking the corner of his muzzle.

"It appears we may have stopped for the right cup of tea at just the right time on precisely the right day, cubs."

"Ehh, whar be ye meanin' behind thine wordin's, Fred?"

"What I mean is very simple, Foxy. You and Chica have been needing a form of accompaniment, and that android might be just what we're looking for. Compassion, dedication, talent, and something we can't be programmed with."

"Which is?"

"Heart, Chica. He has heart."

The two looked to their leader and nodded. "Then we be needin' ta get 'im on our side, aye?"

"Precisely. Come! We must make haste if we are to reach him."

* * *

 _ **Normally I title my chapters, but I'm not that creative this time. Ton of setup, not much plot. First chapters, eyy. I love you all, my gentle snowflakes, and I'll see you again soon...if this gets any attention, that is. ~Kyttin  
**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Got a few small pings on this story. I suppose I'll keep going for a bit.**_

* * *

The Game

Chapter 2

Bonnie slammed the door as he staggered into the room, tossing the case to the floor with a rattle. He growled in frustration at the day; the change hadn't even been enough for bus fare to bring him the twelve miles back to his residence, leaving him no alternative but to walk. That check-up for his glitch-laden knee was going to be pushed that much closer, and the money he needed to make that happen was scarce to be had.

As it was, his sensors indicated a pint's deficiency in oil, a lack in salt and water content, and a dire need for hydrogen to replenish his fuel cell. He groaned, knowing none of the remedies for the pressing desires could be found in his friend's apartment, broke as they both were. He slumped into a chair at the table and let his head thump the wood below.

Many years before his creation, a global conference was held regarding the legality of artificial intelligence, specifically that which could be programmed into a robot's algorithms to give it mechanical life. The plans were approved, revisions were drafted, and many androids, including Bonnie, had been crafted to herald the release of the sixth generation of internal operations codes. Speaking based on the data, he had been engineered to have enhanced reflexes, a longer-lasting stock fuel cell (which he could upgrade through after-market options, were it that he had the funds to do so), powerful nanoprocessors to crunch through his millions of lines of code, and an enhanced emotional tapestry with a much more diverse range of dynamic "feelings" that his titanium-alloy micro-servos could employ, particularly in his face.

And yet, the modern marvels of technology were expected to not only blend in with society (an impossibility given their distinct animal-esque appearances, created to distinguish droids from humans), but to fend for themselves without government or scientific assistance. This left Bonnie in need of new servos in his knee joint, the fingers on his left hand, the wrist on his right, and one particularly twitchy "muscle" in his left cheek that pulsed when he opened his mouth to speak.

A knock at the door roused his thoughts. He stood, shoving the chair backwards with violently-locking knees, and forced himself toward the door to answer whoever decided it was a brilliant idea to come calling at the present hour. He tugged the door open, leaving the security chain attached, and glared at the figures outside.

"What."

"Good day, fellow android!"

"I'm not interested in your religion or politics. Save that for the next Westboro Baptist Church meeting or Republican Conference."

"Oh, no!" The figure wedged a large (huge) furry brown hand between the door and its jamb, preventing Bonnie from slamming it shut. "You certainly have just the wrong idea, sir! We come not to preach or spread teachings, but to offer you a chance opportunity to be a part of something big."

Bonnie attempted to compress the aluminum door against the furry hand. The aluminum deformed, leaving Bonnie to growl in frustration.

"I don't want to hear it."

"You don't want to hear about my offer?"

"No, I don't."

"Oh, well, then I suppose you might want a new guitar instead?"

Bonnie paused. "What?"

"We saw what happened earlier today and wanted to offer you our gratitude at your selfless sacrifice."

"Gee, thanks," he griped.

"We'd also like to offer you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, fellow android."

"How about a replacement door, since you so kindly bent mine? Actually, you owe my roommate a new door; it's his place, not mine."

"Arr, lad, mind yer mouth fer a sec an' let the bear talk, would ye?"

Bonnie blinked. _What._

"Now, now, Foxy. No need to discourage the gent, right?"

A sigh. "Aye."

Bonnie, curiosity finally overwhelming his displeasure, undid the security chain and opened the door, releasing the brown hand from its crush.

"Many thanks for that, fellow android. My name is Freddy, and these are my friends Chica and Foxy."

"Sup?"

"Ahoy, matey."

Bonnie nodded to each in turn, still unsure what they wanted.

"You see, fellow android, we watched your brave act today while listening to your music at that coffee shop. You're quite skilled at handling that instrument, I must admit."

"Thanks…I think," Bonnie replied.

"So it is thus, fellow android, that I would like to offer you this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to play music for millions of people across the world."

Bonnie stared at the ursine android for a few terse seconds before jamming a finger into his ear and digging around for a moment.

"Come again?" he asked upon removing the intrusive digit.

"I'd like you to be the lead guitarist for the band I've created for my good friends."

Bonnie laughed, clinging to the door handle for support in his weak knee. "A band? Travel the world? What kind of prank is this? Am I being Punk'd?"

"Far from it, fellow android. Allow me to extend my formal invitation to you in hope that you become a part of the biggest android band to rock the world."

Bonnie paused. "You can't be serious."

"Listen, kid, he's never been this serious about nuthin' since I've known him."

"Arr, and ye'd be welcome into th' Freddy Fazbear crew with th' rest o' us."

If his synthetic skin allowed such, Bonnie would have paled. "Freddy…Fazbear?"

"I _did_ say the biggest android band to rock the world, didn't I?"

Bonnie blanched. Not just any android bear, _the_ Freddy Fazbear was standing on his porch asking him to join the band. He already knew some of the songs, had even plucked along to a few on his guitar when they'd played on the radio, and had been lucky enough to win a free t-shirt in an internet game (in which he placed third with roughly one thousand other people, but that was hardly relevant).

"But…you can't be."

"Can't we be?"

"No, no, Freddy Fazbear wouldn't bring his band around here."

"Why not?"

"Because they're _famous!_ World-famous people don't just wander down the street in a suburban area, chilling at a coffee shop just because they can! Celebrities don't do that!"

"Why not, kid?"

He couldn't help but feel mildly intimidated by the punk yellow chicklet giving him a stern look.

"Because it's not normal!"

"Not even if we're local?"

That left the rabbit silent.

"See, we all attended the high school across the city, kid. Ain't nuthin' wrong with us stayin' local to our roots. 'Sides, that coffee shop is the only place in the world that knows how to blend my special."

"Fellow android."

Bonnie looked back to Freddy, noting the somber look on the bear's face. "We've been performing together since our high school days a few years ago. A talent agent thought we had the power to go big, and we did. Then we hit a scuffle and lost our guitar player and our contract in the mix. Lately, we haven't done much in performing aside from smaller gigs in local settings. But I've still got the connections; I paid attention to everything that agent said and did, learned the ropes even better than he knows, played the game right along with him. Now, all he's got is one android out there performing solo. We've got three…four if you're willing…and you can bet the name Fazbear will bring a crowd. Problem is…we need a guitar. Our last record was done in the studio with a hire-in guitarist, but he quit partway through. We need someone like us. Someone who has the talent, the passion, and the spirit of music in his limbs to join us. You've got it, I can sense it."

Bonnie, still unable to fathom the circumstances, blinked and nodded slowly. "If…if you're really offering, and you aren't just screwing with me, then…let's meet at your studio of choice. We can revisit some of those tracks and…I dunno, maybe that'll be like an audition or something.

"But if you aren't serious, then I want nothing to do with it. I've got my own problems to deal with, my own parts that need replacing, my own life that needs to be ironed out-"

Freddy extended a large (huge) furry four-fingered hand out to the rabbit. "You have my word, fellow android."

"Bonnie," he said, shaking the offered hand. "It's Bonnie. Now, where are we meeting?"

Freddy grinned.

* * *

 _ **We now get a bit of the plot. I'm trying to ease in without spilling too much. I love you all, my gentle snowflakes, and I'm hoping I'll get some activity here so I can continue writing for you. ~Kyttin  
**_


End file.
